Enough
by AB115
Summary: "Now, in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, it's feeling like the world is spinning too fast. All the hopes, wishes, dreams, questions that he had about his father have somehow amplified. He heard his father say he was proud. Wasn't that what he always wanted? But he also heard: You weren't enough. I knew about you, but I didn't stop what I was doing to be your dad." Post Hunt.


He said_ I'm getting my daughter back_ and he took off, absolutely without hesitation. Flew halfway across the world, alone and unarmed, to take on whatever ended up standing in his way.

What he found there was his own father. And, of course, his daughter. In some twisted fantasy where his dad really _is_ a spy and he gets to be a spy, too.

And then he had his daughter in his arms and nothing else mattered and the world started spinning again.

But now, in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, it's feeling like the world is spinning too fast. All the hopes, wishes, dreams, questions that he had about his father have somehow amplified.

He heard his father say he was proud. Wasn't that what he always wanted?

But he also heard: _You weren't enough. I knew about you, but I didn't stop what I was doing to be your dad._

This is completely unfathomable to him, while simultaneously bringing his worst fear to the forefront of his mind.

He simply cannot understand how a father could look at his child and not want to be the best parent he can be, not want to be a part of his son's life. How he could just completely walk away. Live life without him, apart from him, unknown to him.

Which brings him to the conclusion he has always feared the most: he wasn't good enough.

And now, oh, _now_ we're at _I've been running around with the school's funniest kid and it's not enough_.

He barely suppresses what might've been a whimper. But Kate is actually next to him right now, finally asleep, and if there is one thing he is certain about at this moment, it's that he does not want Kate to be awake for whatever it is he is doing to himself.

He closes his eyes, tries to will himself to calm down. But it's no use.

Slowly, quietly, he slips out of bed. He goes to the kitchen, pours himself a tall glass of water, sits on a stool at the island.

He reminds himself that Alexis is right upstairs. His daughter is here, safe. His mother is here. Kate is here.

There is no reason for sadness now. No questions that need answering. He has everything he needs.

Right?

He hears the footsteps behind him before she makes it across the kitchen (apparently, he's still on high alert).

She gets herself a glass of water, flashes him what is probably supposed to be a reassuring smile. It's more of a grimace.

She stands on the other side of the island, elbows against the counter, head in her hands. "You ok?" Her voice is soft, calming in a way.

"Yeah," he answers immediately, automatically, flashing his own grimace-like smile.

She casts him a disbelieving look, doesn't even have to open her mouth to portray how obvious it is that she knows that is utter nonsense.

He sighs, rubs his face with his hands, as though trying to erase everything. After a long moment, he looks back up at her. "I don't know." And then his elbows go down – harder than necessary – and he buries his face in his hands.

Her fingers are cool on his neck as she comes around to comfort him. She brushes a hand through his hair, then brings it to the hair at the nape of his neck, rubbing soft, hypnotic circles.

He breathes a little deeper, but doesn't uncover his face. "I'm being ridiculous. Alexis is home. She's safe. She's here. I should be happy." A pause. "I _am_ happy." He stops, frustrated with himself, with his words suddenly deserting him, with the universe for putting them through this.

"It's a lot to take in," Kate responds, her hand unceasing on his neck. She's not usually this gentle. It helps.

When he doesn't start talking again, Kate continues.

"Your daughter was taken from you. Taken out of the country. And then you went after her."

She pauses, seems to need a minute to get past that part. He desperately wants to comfort her, but he doesn't think he has it in him. She continues before he can make a move.

"And you paid some man who said he would help you. And he did. And then he didn't."

Another pause.

"And a man came to you and eventually explained to you that he is your father, and it's actually his fault that Alexis was taken, and then laid out a plan to get her back. A plan that required putting yourself in a great deal of danger. A plan that required Alexis to think that her dad was about to die in front of her."

He shudders at that, at both the idea and vivid memories it stirs up.

"But you didn't die. She didn't die. It seems as though your father didn't die, either. You and Alexis came home, safe and sound." She stops, pushes on his shoulder to urge him to look at her. After a moment, he does. Her hands frame his cheeks, his body twisting on the stool to orient towards her. "It's over." Her voice is barely above a whisper, but it's strong and certain. He closes his eyes, repeats it over and over in his head like a mantra.

_It's over. It's over. It's over._

It takes him a full minute to realize that he's not just thinking it, but that she's actually saying it to him, for him, over and over again. His head has found its way to her chest, his arms around her waist, and her hands are tight in his hair, her body rocking in a comforting rhythm.

He takes the comfort for a couple of minutes, then backs off. He knows that if he keeps that up, he may never stop.

He turns back towards the island so that she is faced with his profile.

"I just can't stop thinking," he blurts out, uncensored. He stops himself from completing that thought – _about my father_ – just in time.

Apparently understanding that he needs physical space, she walks to stand on the other side of the island again.

He still isn't looking at her. He's afraid of what he might let out if he does.

"Castle." Her voice is wavering. He still doesn't look up.

"Rick." That gets his head to snap up entirely without his permission. He sees that her eyes are watery and his heart sinks.

This wasn't easy on her either, and what is he doing now? Wallowing? Hiding in the kitchen in the middle of the night?

"I'm sorry," he suddenly says, realizing how true it is as soon as it's out of his mouth. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking and I took off and I didn't tell you. I didn't call you. I'm sorry. I should never have just – "

"Stop." Her voice cuts right through his blabbering. "Don't apologize for what you did. You'd do it again – "

"_Kate_ – "

"You'd do it again because it's who you are, it's what you do. You're an incredible father. Remember at the end of the 'Girls Gone Wild' case, when I asked you if you thought that Armstrong could accept his grandchild? You said _absolutely_. Without a moment's hesitation."

He's not entirely sure where she is going with this, but he won't try to interrupt her again.

"I was surprised by how quickly you answered, so I asked how you could be so sure. And you responded, just as surely – and I quote – that _a father would do anything for his daughter_."

For a moment, he forgets everything else except Kate and her story. "You're memorizing my lines now?"

She smiles softly at him. "It just struck me at that moment what an amazing man you are, how lucky Alexis is to have you."

"Thanks?"

She smirks at him for that. "What I'm trying to say is that I would never stand in the way of that. I would never want to. Of course I wish you had called. I thought…" She takes a deep breath, appears to be collecting herself, her smirk long gone. "When I heard that gunshot, I thought you were dead. It was hours – _hours _ – until I heard from you again. That was the worst – the most unimaginable – " She stutters to a stop, takes another breath. "It was bad. And I wish you had been in the frame of mind to call me."

"I'm so sorry. I don't even know what to say. It all happened so fast. Even now, it feels like the world is moving too quickly. I got out of bed because it felt like the room was spinning. But it doesn't make sense because Alexis is here, and it's over, and we're home, and you're here, and – " He cuts himself off, forces himself to gulp down some air.

"Hey, it's ok. It's ok." He looks back up at her – didn't even realize he had dropped his head down again – and tries to believe her.

"The worst part is that I can't stop thinking about him. It's not even Alexis who is taking over my mind. It's him."

"Your father?"

He takes a deep breath. "Yes. And it all feels so wrong. Everything about it. That I'm thinking about him. That I met him. That he exists. That he's always known about me. That he didn't…" He trails off, unsure that he wants to even say any of this out loud, put himself out there this way.

"Didn't what?" She prompts when he doesn't continue.

He looks back down at the counter, shakes his head. "Nothing. It's stupid." He forces himself off the stool and takes her hand, directing them both to his bedroom. "Let's go back to bed."

She stops him, pulling back on his hand as he tries to walk away. "Castle. Stop."

He does, but he doesn't turn around.

"Talk to me. Please."

He can't deny her, so he tugs her over to the couch instead, plops himself down on the chaise.

Again understanding his need for some space, she sits towards the other end, body oriented towards him.

He realizes she is waiting for him to speak, so he takes a deep breath. "I found my father." That's not quite accurate, though, so he tries again. "Well, he found me." Better? "But anyway, we met. And he told me that he had a night with my mother and then in the morning he had to leave for some mission."

This is the part he hasn't told her yet. He glances over at her – has definitely been avoiding eye contact – and sees that she's watching him with rapt attention. "He found out about me a year later when he got back to the States."

"Oh." He's startled by her voice, doesn't expect it. When he looks at her again, he can barely hold himself together.

She looks so soft, so understanding. So sad for him.

Maybe she gets it. Maybe he should give her more credit. "Yeah," he says simply, head hanging back down.

He hears her shifting on the couch, realizes what she's doing a second before he feels her at his side. One hand at his back this time, rubbing up and down, over and over.

"Did he say anything else?" she prompts.

"Essentially that he kept tabs on me. That we even met once." Her hand stops moving for a second as she takes that detail in. He's not in the mood to dwell on that particular story, so he moves on. "He had pictures of Alexis, from when she was a baby up until now."

She doesn't say anything to that, just keeps her hand moving against his back.

He's not sure he wants to say anymore of it out loud, wants her to know how deep his insecurities run. But he also feels like he owes her this, after everything he just put her through, after everything he will probably put her through as they all process this.

"I can't help thinking that I wasn't enough, you know?"

At that, her hand falls completely from his back. She tries to push into his space, tries to get him to look at her, but he steadfastly refuses. Suddenly, she's on her knees on the floor in front of him, forcing his hands off of his face, then getting a hold on his head, thumbs at his jaw, fingers in his hair, forcing him to look at her.

"Rick, no. You can't." Her eyes are tearing up and _shit_, this is exactly what he didn't want.

He feels his own eyes tearing up, and suddenly he can't stop the words from rushing past his lips.

"I wondered that my whole life. And then, with Alexis, all the time I worried that I wasn't enough. I'm just one parent, and she deserved two, or, at the very least, one who wasn't a child. But it was just me and I've always thought that I'm not enough. That I could never be."

He wants to stop, because he knows where this is going to end up and he doesn't want to do this.

But now that the dam is broken, there's nothing for it.

"And I've had two marriages that failed, that just completely fell apart. That I couldn't hold together. And Sofia, and it just kept happening, over and over."

Now that the words are rushing out, now that everything is pouring out of him, he knows he's in trouble.

"You told me that once. That I wasn't enough. And I knew then that it was true. That it had always been true, and would continue to be true."

He's avoiding her eyes at all costs, but he can feel her tears falling against his pants where she's leaning over him.

He's pretty sure he's crying, too.

"I know that it's the truth. I just feel like I'm always waiting for everyone else to figure that out." He runs his hands under his eyes, tries to staunch the flow. "Apparently, my father knew it right away."

And then she's suddenly launching herself into him, landing awkwardly in his lap, twisting around until her knees are trapping his thighs and her arms are around his neck, holding on so tightly it hurts.

He doesn't know what else to do, so he wraps his arms around her waist, pulls her closer.

He takes deep breaths, tries to get himself under control. Everything is suddenly loud and it takes him a couple of minutes to realize that Kate is speaking to him, her mouth right next to his ear.

Most of it sounds like nonsense, soft murmurs meant to comfort him. As he gets himself under control, can hear over the blood rushing loudly through his ears and his hard, heavy breathing, the words start to make sense.

"More than enough. So much more." He realizes that's what she's been saying, over and over again, right into his ear.

He loosens his grip on her and she relaxes a little in response. Her hands leave his neck, and she tries to wipe the remaining tears away. She sits so that she's resting on his thighs, right above his knees. After a few more futile attempts to wipe away her tears, she puts her hands on his shoulders and ducks into his line of sight.

"I felt that way, too." She visibly takes a breath. "After my mom was killed and my dad drank, I couldn't help thinking that. That I wasn't enough for him. That I wasn't worth it to him to stop."

He pulls her close again, whispers apologies into her hair. After another minute, she pulls back again.

"I had to learn that he is a human being and that his problem wasn't a reflection on me, wasn't caused by me, wasn't even in spite of me. It's a hard lesson to learn, that our parents are just human beings who have faults and who can do terrible things."

She pauses to look at him, apparently to make sure he's paying attention.

"Most of the time, if we're lucky, they try to do right by us. My dad couldn't see how his pain was drowning me. I don't think your father saw how his choices affected you."

He looks away again, and she waits until he looks back up.

"I can't speak to what he was thinking. Maybe he felt he couldn't leave his job, not even to live a normal life that he might have wanted. Maybe he didn't think he'd be a very good dad. Maybe he thought Martha would be better off without him. I don't know. You don't know. But what you have to know is that it wasn't because of you."

He doesn't know what to say – hardly knows what to think – so he remains silent.

She keeps going.

"You are an amazing father. Amazing. Do you hear me? You've always been there for her, despite everything else you could have been doing. Despite what her mother was doing. So don't you ever for even one second question whether or not you are enough for her."

She leans forward and kisses him softly, as though to punctuate that thought. She stays closer as she continues.

"And I know we haven't really spoken about all of the things we've said and done to each other in the past. But you can't even imagine how sorry I am for some of the things I've said to you, some of the ways I've hurt you. But you have to know it was never true. If anything, you were too much."

He gives her a tight smile for that one.

"You're a good man, Rick. Alexis is lucky to have you. I'm lucky to have you."

She leans forward to kiss him again.

"I love you," she whispers against his lips, and then continues to place small, calm kisses against his lips until he responds and kisses her back.

He pulls her forward and she crashes into his chest, puts her head on his shoulder, her breath warm on his neck. He runs his hands through her hair as they both try to relax.

After a while, he feels his eyelids start to drop.

"Come on, let's go back to bed," she says eventually, standing up and holding her hand out to him.

He takes it and lets her lead him back into the bedroom, practically falling down when he gets to the bed.

He lays on his side facing her, and she gets in and mirrors his position, getting as close to him as she can while still being able to look at him. Their foreheads are practically touching and she brings her hand up to his cheek, her thumb running over the soft skin under his eye.

"I love you." She says it again, in that voice that is somehow both quiet and strong.

He doesn't say anything back, just pulls her closer and lets those words wash over him, clean him, absolve him.

He hears her say it again and again, as though reassuring them both, as he feels sleep pull him under.

He knows that there is a long road ahead of them, for him and Alexis and for Kate too, but he breathes a little deeper with the knowledge that Kate knows him, really _knows_ him, and she's still hanging on as tight as he is.

In spite of that knowledge or because of it, he doesn't really care.

All that matters in this moment is that she's here, real and warm and soft in his arms, and his daughter is home, sleeping and safe and alive, right upstairs.

And that is more than enough.


End file.
